Originally Posted by
radionixon
Mr B's fate at Motown was similar to that suffered by Barbara McNair - as a "prestige" crossover signing, he was only given the dullest MOR slop to record. Unlike McNair, there doesn't seem to be a secret cache of him doing stronger material; nearly all his Motown records are in the same bag, standards and dreary ballads, very jarring when placed right next to storming mid-Sixties Motown hits.
Ironically, he'd recorded a fair few listenable records in the Forties, when his career as a bandleader made him one of the biggest names in bebop and an unlikely influence on the future of jazz [[Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Art Blakey and Dexter Gordon all spent time cutting their teeth in his band, for instance, along with a young Miles Davis no less), and while many of his vocal ballads and renditions of standards are pretty unappealing today, there was a time when they couldn't be got onto record store shelves fast enough - and as a genuine million-selling black artist, Eckstine's star wattage was very important in smashing down a few racial barriers in the music and showbiz industries.
Mr B's Motown tenure was probably more about the prestige and symbolism of having him signed to the label than an expectation that he'd sell millions of records again; most of his Motown stuff I find a struggle to listen to, to be honest.
Except one.
Which [[a) rocks my world, and [[b) is enough, frankly, to excuse a HUNDRED tedious crooner standards.
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